


Too Close to Home

by Soquilii9



Category: Almost Paradise (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: The drug war Alex denounces ... condemns ... but continues to fight, despite the toll it's taken on him, finally hits ... too close to home.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Too Close to Home

_Breathe in, deeply... You are alive... Breathe out... Let go... Breathe in, grateful... The sun warms you... Breathe out, relax... Breathe in, fullness... All will be well... Breathe out, relax... Tranquility abounds... Breathe in, **BAM-BAM-BAM!!!**_

_Now, that’s a fist on a door if ever I heard one. Have I ever listened to a **complete** meditation tape_ _?!?_ Despite his irritation at being interrupted, Alex Walker’s medical wrist monitor gave only a small chirp before going silent. _Making progress here_ , he thought. _At one time, being startled like that would’ve made it sing the Star Spangled Banner._

Alex stuck his paintbrush into the can, dusted his hands on his dirty, paint-splattered jeans, jogged to the front door and pulled it open. Just as he thought: the donation had arrived. Piled untidily on the porch, the recycled grocery boxes were all haphazardly taped, a bit crunched, all filthy. He looked down at his sweaty, grimy hands, the result of refurbishing his apartment - a work in progress now for the better part of his first year on the island. It was almost done; he just needed to paint his bedroom, repair the hastily-nailed bedframe and construct some sort of cabinet for the bathroom. He was determined to get it done this weekend. 

Alex had initially despaired of being able to get his retirement project off the ground, making do with only his disability check (which, on top of everything else, had been held up for over a friggin' month because of his own United States Government!), but once the shop out front had been cleaned, repaired and stocked, business had slowly picked up. That, plus odd jobs here and there and being surreptitiously paid under the table by certain employees of the Mactan Police Department, had helped his finances considerably! Now he could actually afford to make some improvements on the apartment in back. He was tired of living in such a hovel. 

No need to worry about getting any dirtier. The water bill was **paid** \- in _advance_ , no less! He grinned, remembering how Cory nearly fell over when he handed her the cash. With the promise of a hot shower readily available, what was a little more dirt? The boxes were gravy. Another, smaller resort and gift shop on the other side of Cebu had gone under and the disgruntled owner, whom Alex knew only slightly, simply gave him the stock. Alex offered to pay him at least a token amount but the owner wouldn’t have it. ‘I’ve had enough. And don’t act like it’s top shelf: most of it’s not, but these items will sell. They’re yours. I’ll send ‘em along. Good luck.’ 

The boxes arrived the next day. _Dude didn't waste any time, did he? His loss, my gain._

Alex shrugged, hauled them in and set to work. As he unpacked each box he stacked the contents on a large table, stomping the boxes flat for the trash. Then he began systematically sorting through it all. There were lots of multi-colored T-shirts in adult sizes. He shook them out, one by one. All had humorous decals or were screenprinted; some not so humorous. _I’m a Ricist-no rice=no life_ , said one shirt of the not-so-humorous variety. _I prefer Tagalog to English_ said another; and a hideous purple one that said _Got Balut?_ featured a picture of an open fetal duck egg. Alex’s stomach churned; he tossed it aside. Other shirts displayed the country’s flag, screenprinted city skylines and resort beaches. These were better. There were a few sundresses and bathing suit covers, all in island colors. _These just might sell,_ he thought.

He turned to the collection of figurines, magnets, mugs and, well, junk. Magnets were a hot commodity but they didn’t exactly bring in a lot of pesos. Mugs had become less popular with tourists, probably because they were broken during flight, dropped or ended up just collecting dust back home. Figurines - the really good, carved-wood ones actually made in the Philippines went for top dollar; not so much the ceramic ones made in Taiwan - nor the Willow Tree collection, as he’d learned by bitter experience. _People travel to other countries; they want to see items_ **_from_ ** _those countries, not something they can get off Amazon,_ he thought to himself. Alex laid a box of Willow Tree statuary and three boxes of large ceramic figurines aside for consideration. If nothing else, he could pay little Rita off with them whenever she worked for him. In fact, he had a job for her now; he made a mental note to leave a message at the resort desk. She could price these things and set them out while he finished painting his apartment. 

Rita was a frequent visitor to the shop. With the exception of hauling anything heavy, like for instance water buckets, she seemed to enjoy helping him with odd jobs, especially since she knew how to wind him around her little finger and get whatever she wanted. Annoying, to be sure, but she struck at the heart of his being. Rita was the one pure soul in his world. With his daughter Evelyn barely speaking to him, and Rita's father recently deceased, the two had formed an unlikely friendship that was beneficial to each. Alex had taken her under his wing; without the slightest intention of being a father figure to her; still, he sensed that he had in a small way, filled that gap in her life. 

The rest of the boxes contained keychains, strings of shell beads, pin-on buttons and other cheap trinkets of the kind usually found in tourist resorts. Those could be sorted and placed in the baskets on the shelves or in the smaller wooden bins. Rita could take care of that, too. It was all good. 

Alex divided all the stacks and put a stickie note by each stack listing the price, along with a pen and a roll of price tags. His stomach growled as he ran his fingers through his hair. He'd grab a bite from the resort's snack bar, leave a note for Rita and get back to painting.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

A much gentler knock came two hours later. Rita stuck her head in the door and called out to him. 'I'm here, Mr. Alex!'

'Coming!'

She waved his note in the air. 'You said you had a job for me?'

Alex jogged in from the back room, grinning at her. 'Sure do.'

'You pay me?'

'Don't I always?'

'Just with _stuff_.' She cut her eyes up at him as if hoping for more.

'Yeah, well, take it or leave it.'

'I will take it.' She smiled broadly. 'What you want me to do?'

'Well, I'll tell ya,' he began, leading her by the hand to the big table. 'See all this? Just price it for me, like you did the last time, willya? Then put it on the shelves. _Neatly._ All the clothes _folded._ Dust the figurines before you set 'em out. Stickers go on the bottom, remember; nobody has time to scrub those suckers off so put 'em where they can't be seen. Come get me when you're done. Don't just call me. Can't hear you over that... uh, that thing I gotta listen to. I'll be in the back, painting.'

'Okay, but I take payment in advance,' Rita grinned at him, not at all intimidated by the faux snarl that crept over his handsome features.

Alex, as usual, caved. He picked up the box of ceramics. 'You can have... let's see, for a job like this... tell you what, one of these big figurines. How's that? Plus, pick out another one you think your Mom would like.' 

'OK. Thanks, Mr. Alex.' 

Rita set to work. Alex couldn't help grinning and shaking his head as he watched her very seriously write the designated price on an item and set it aside. No hesitation, no wasted motion. All business. She drove a hard bargain, but she truly earned whatever he gave her. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Leaving her to her job, Alex returned to his, switching the meditation tape back on. The hypnotic voice somehow made the boring and repetitive brush strokes bearable. It seemed no time at all until Rita appeared at the door to his apartment. She had knocked but he hadn't heard her.

High up on the stepladder, he glanced down at her. She held a ceramic figurine of what looked like a large pelican surrounded by rocks and shoreline vegetation in both hands.

'All done? Didja find anything you like?'

'Sure did, Mr. Alex! This one - and guess what? It's full of _candy_!' Rita exclaimed as she reached inside the ceramic vent hole with her small fingers. Shaking the pelican, she extracted something that resembled a cough drop. Alex reacted instantly. ' _ **NO, RITA!!!'**_ he yelled at her, but it was too late. Rita had already popped it into her mouth. 

Alex leaped from the top of the ladder to the floor, cracking a bone in his ankle. He ignored the pain and knocked the figurine out of her hands where it disintegrated on the hard floor. Furious, not understanding, Rita glared up at him - but quickly after, her eyes lost their focus and rolled back before her eyelids closed. Alex caught her limp body and eased her to the floor. Ignoring his ankle, he ran into the shop to call an ambulance, telling Dispatch it was an accidental drug overdose and to hurry.

 ** _'Oh, baby, no!'_ **he groaned, cradling her in his arms, wailing the phrase over and over, as he scooped fragments out of her mouth; reaching down into her throat with his fingers for particles she might have already swallowed. Amidst the shards of the ruined figurine, he could see a cellophane bag containing the rest of what looked like fruit candy. It had to be _Yerba Mala_ \- marijuana laced with PCP, mixed and cooked with candy and compressed into chewable tablets. Depending on the recipe, this particular drug mix could be equivalent to as much as five hits of methamphetamine. He ripped the pocket off his shirt. With the fragment of material, he gathered the particles from her mouth and his fingers. Her breathing was becoming erratic. He pressed his fingers to her neck; her pulse was racing. The twitching of her muscles told him she might be seizing. **_'Hurry, man, hurry,'_** Alex sobbed, entreating the ambulance, as if it could somehow hear him. 

As he waited Alex, holding Rita close, attempted to determine how much of the substance she might have ingested. The bag had been packed tight and it was almost entirely filled. Maybe she hadn't swallowed as much as he thought she did... still, just one tablet would have been too much! He heard the ambulance arrive at last and carried her to the front door, his broken ankle forgotten. The EMTs quickly took her from his shaking arms. As they assessed her condition, Alex answered their questions, explaining what had happened.

'I got this out of her mouth,' he said, his voice quavering with emotion. He held out the shirt material containing the particles along with the bag from the pelican. The EMT crew asked if he wanted to come along; he didn't look well, they said. He refused, knowing he'd have to remain to give a statement to the Mactan detective whom he knew had accompanied the ambulance. He raised his haggard, tear-stained face to the door as the detective walked in.

It was Ernesto.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

After his initial investigation, Ernesto brought Alex, at his insistence, to the hospital to determine how Rita was doing. She was in the ICU; her mother was with her.

While they waited, Ernesto talked to Alex, who sat on a padded bench with his head in his hands. 'I did a quick check of all those figurines, Alex. They were all stuffed tight with bags. They didn't rattle. The bags were light. You would never have noticed. Stop beating yourself up.'

'Then how did Rita get to it so easily, huh? How did that baby see that poison and _I didn't?!_ '

'Aw, Alex. You know kids. You _should_ , you've got one.' Ernesto said in his calm, deep voice. 'They're too curious for their own good! Now, look; it's going to take some time to analyze and test this stuff, as you know, but at first glance, it looks like ecstasy. They've been cooking up new recipes to make it look and taste more like candy, like apple or strawberry candy. We have the evidence and it's all being examined now. You did a good thing, wiping her mouth out. You did all you could, man.'

'I want you to press charges, Ernesto.'

'We haven't caught the dealers, yet, Alex. But we will - you gave us one hellova lead with Raoul Reyes.'

'I'm talking about charges against _**me**_. And _**no**_ \- Ernesto, I _**didn't**_ do all I could. I didn't think to check those boxes, man. I was on the job long enough to know better than that. From the time Raoul said he'd send 'em to the time they were delivered... I knew they came _too quick._ It all looked suspicious and it didn't register. _It didn't register._ Oh my God, what was I thinking..... Have 'em check for Yerba Mala, Ernesto, along with everything else, willya? Oh my God, _oh my God_ , I didn't check those boxes. I went through the others but I didn't check those boxes... the ones I let _her handle_. I've seen this before, man, I've seen this before, _why didn't I catch it?_ '' 

Alex was shaking and sobbing. Ernesto had never felt so sorry for anyone, but he didn't try to comfort his friend. Nothing would help the way Alex felt right now except for Rita's complete recovery. Ernesto sat with Alex outside the ICU, awaiting word about her condition. None of the medical personnel would tell them anything.

Presently Pilar Cordero, Rita's recently widowed mother, emerged from her daughter's room. Alex lifted his head from his hands and got painfully to his feet, not knowing what to say. Ernesto, sympathy for them both on his dark, chiseled features, spoke first. 

'Pilar... how is she?'

Pilar didn't answer, nor even look at Ernesto. She slowly approached Alex, her face strangely blank. Then she reached up, swift as a snake, and struck Alex across the face hard enough to knock him back; he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Ernesto enveloped a sobbing Pilar in his arms just as Alex's watch emitted a shrill alarm.

Hospital personnel immediately surrounded Alex and transferred him to a gurney, racing him to emergency. 'He's in cardiac arrest!' yelled one doctor. Ernesto stood back helplessly as they wheeled the friend he had grown to respect and love as a brother down the corridor.

 _Holy Mother, don't let this be the end of my friend_ , he prayed.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Beeping noises, hushed whispers, pain. Pain in his chest and pain in his leg. Alex's senses picked these up first before he opened his eyes. A nurse in a white uniform was adjusting something over his head. His hand came up and brushed her arm. 

'Wherrre...' he said with slurred speech.

'You're in the hospital. Don't worry. Your doctor will be here shortly.'

_Oh, yeah - Dr. Patel. She's coming. Yeah, ok. I must have had one of those things... what does she call it? Just... boom! I was just dreamin' that shit, I knew it. No way could that happen. She's gonna lecture me now like she always does... I better have my homework done, ain't that right, Doc? Wait... Aw, fuck... I don't have the damned diary with me! She's gonna raise hell... It was jus'... a dream... ... jus' a dream..._

Alex drifted back to sleep.

Two days later he was out of the ICU and in a room with three other patients. A little more alert now, he remembered everything and now merely lay in bed, hands folded on the sheet. He still had wires stuck to his chest, a terribly logy feeling, and his left ankle was in a plaster cast. He didn't speak nor question anything. He just stared at the curtains suspended around his bed. 

It took another two days before he was fully alert. Dr. Patel had been in to explain that he had had a stress attack so severe that his heart had stopped. She was very concerned, especially when she determined the level of his depression. He answered in monosyllables or not at all. In the waiting room, she consulted with Ernesto Alamares and Kai Mendoza, even Ike Ocampo, who had taken time from a busy schedule to visit him. His landlady had dropped by, but it was thought his condition was too fragile to permit visitors just yet. Ernesto was the only one to disagree. He spoke to Dr. Patel privately; it was arranged that Alex would be allowed visitors - just Ernesto and one other person - and only after he had had a chance to talk with Alex, one on one.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

'We got him, Alex.' 

Ernesto commanded his friend's attention; Alex, cranked up in bed, sat looking at him, reluctantly. 'I know you remember it all. You were out of it for a while there but you were talking and you thought it was a dream; well, it wasn't. You've been mumbling over and over about it all being a dream. You listening?'

Alex nodded. Ernesto continued. 'That guy who gave you his stock, Raoul Reyes? He dumped it on you and left a trail leading to you, hoping his supplier would come after _you_ instead of _him_. The supplier didn't appreciate the fact that Raoul was keeping too much of the profits. Raoul was easy to track down; we're still looking for the supplier but we expect to have him in custody before long. The DEA is on the case at their end. Raoul figured he could get out of the Philippines free and clear and leave you holding the bag and taking the heat. He was wrong. We're going to assign security to you until we get the supplier.' 

'Glad you got Raoul.' Alex's voice was flat. 'Don't waste your resources on me.'

'You're getting a security detail whether you like it or not. The girl waiting to see you wouldn't like it if I let anything happen to you.'

Alex, certain he had been the cause of Rita's death, looked at Ernesto quizzically. 'Huh? What's _Evelyn_ doing here? She doesn't...'

'It's not Evelyn, my friend.'

The door opened; Ernesto drew the curtain aside. Rita, now fully recovered, came close and put her arms around Alex, who simply bowed his head and sobbed.

'They pumped her stomach. She's going to be just fine, Alex. No long-term effects. They said she swallowed less than a gram, but that stuff was potent enough to cause the reaction you saw. They said if you hadn't cleaned her mouth and throat we wouldn't have been so lucky.' 

'Thank you, Mr. Alex,' Rita whispered into his ear.

'Your Mom...'

'She gave me permission to see you and thank you. Here,' she took her arms from around his neck and reached for a pot of flowers she had placed on the floor. 'She sent you these. She said tell you she was so sorry. It's just that since Papa died...'

'I know.'

'She hopes you'll forgive her. It's ok for me to work with you again.'

Alex shook his head.

'No, really, I want to.'

'Then I'm paying you cash.'

'It's all right, Mr. Alex. Really, it's all right.' She put her arms around him again.

Ernesto left them together a moment while he stepped into the corridor. Dr. Patel was there with two more visitors. 'So? I followed your suggestion. How is he?' she asked. 

'I was right. He just needed to see her. I think he'll get past this now, Doctor. Thanks for your help. Alex is a strong man, but he could really use a support system. I think he somehow knew he'd find that when he came to the Philippines. That and _Mabuhay_. A new life.'

Dr. Patel nodded, smiled and walked away.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Alex and Rita were deep in conversation behind the curtain around his bed when Ernesto came back into the room. He caught the end of what sounded like a gentle lecture; Alex telling Rita to be more cautious about carelessly eating just _anything_. 'Because you see now what can happen.'

'Yes, sir,' said Rita solemnly.

'Your mother has been through a very difficult time. You don't want to add to her stress, do you?'

'No, Mr. Alex. I'll be careful.'

'May we interrupt?' Ernesto asked, pulling back the curtain around Alex's bed. Kai Mendoza stood at his shoulder, smiling warmly at Alex.

'Welcome back,' she said. 'Get well soon, let that leg knit, and get back on the job. We need you.' 

Alex, once again overcome, glanced up at her and wiped his tear-stained face with his forearms. Cory Santos stepped from behind her and rolled her eyes at her tenant. She presented him with a fruit basket adorned with a ribbon and accompanied by a card. Alex nodded, unable to speak, holding the basket in his lap. 

'Pamilya ka, Alex. _Pamilya ka_. I not tell you that before? You get well, come home soon. Your apartment painted. You have nice new bed. Someone fix closet so you hang clothes. Not leave them on floor like a slob. And you no worry,' she added, 'one of our clerks watching over store for you. Make you lots of money. This time, Alex? _We_ fix. No problem.'

The End

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING FOR PARENTS AND CHILDREN: Research into the types of street drugs manufactured to not only resemble but taste like ordinary candy has been done for story accuracy.


End file.
